


Possession

by acerbitas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive BDSM relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Chains, Collars, Humiliation, Ignoring safewords, M/M, Mindfuck, Spanking, dub-con, paddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acerbitas/pseuds/acerbitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay takes things too far, and puts Theon in a position where he cannot escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> Two people convinced me to post this because I was really embarrassed about it. It's pretty much just sad!porn. So thank you so much to amethyst_ink and queerqueen for encouraging me. I don't even know how in character it is. I've never written an AU before, so I am extremely nervous.

“Get over here,” Ramsay told him sharply, and dragged his chair to the center of the room with one hand.  In his other hand he clutched the hardwood paddle he had bought Theon a few days before.

Intentionally Theon did not get over there, even though he wanted to obey.  He was grinning nervously from the doorway instead, his insides crawling with anticipation.  “What if you have to come get me?  What then?”

“I’m not going to have to come get you.”  Sitting down in the chair, Ramsay smiled at him, but his expression was unreadable.  Sometimes Ramsay’s eyes scared Theon, because there was something hiding in the depths of them he couldn’t quite see.  In the back of his mind, Theon knew whatever it was was going to consume him.  It had probably already started.

“Why not?” Theon asked.  “What if I refuse?”

“You wouldn’t have let me stick that collar on you if you didn’t want this.  So stop being cheeky, and get over here.  Every minute is an extra five with my hand.”

Theon let out a half repressed moan, and leaned his head on the doorway.  His cock was already getting hard.  He wanted an extra five, or an extra ten.  He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him; if his father could see him now he’d probably have a stroke and die.

“Okay,” he said, and stayed by the doorway. He leaned his head against the frame, hair damp with nervous sweat.  “I love you.”  The words poured frequently from him now, colored with desperation.

Ramsay rolled his eyes, unimpressed, and patted his knee.  “If I have to come get you, you’re going to regret it for a very long time.”

Theon knew Ramsay was telling the truth.  He slunk over, still grinning, but his heart was pounding with sudden terror.  Ramsay had never used that particular implement on him before, and Theon didn’t know how many strokes he was getting.  He knew, technically, he could safe-word out, but lately the word got stuck on his tongue.  It was like Ramsay had stolen it from his arsenal in the night, and Theon was not sure how.

“Pull down your pants before you bend over.  I want them at your ankles.  And you’re getting ten with my hand to begin, because you decided to be disobedient.”

Theon swallowed dryly and nodded.  Something about the whole ritual excited him to the point he felt light-headed and woozy.  When he pulled his pants and boxers down, he fully revealed his erection.  His cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

 “You _like_ getting it over my knee, don’t you?”  Ramsay chuckled.  “Yes, you’re my little slut.”  He reached his hand out, and ran his finger down the center of Theon’s chest.  Then he stopped right above his boyfriend’s cock.  “Aren’t you?"

Shuddering, Theon nodded.  He couldn’t keep his eyes from Ramsay’s hand, which hadn’t moved.  “Yes.  Yes, I am.”  His shame was clouded by the strength of his arousal.

“Say please.”  Ramsay paused, considering.  “Say please and sir.”

Theon let out a shaky breath, desperate for Ramsay to touch him.  “Please sir.  _Please._ ”

Ramsay ran a finger teasingly down Theon’s length, but didn’t go further.  Theon whimpered, and his embarrassment was overpowering.

“Please?” he said again, and when he met Ramsay’s eyes he saw amusement and possession inside of them.

Ramsay grasped his cock in his hand, eyes still on Theon’s face as the other man let out a moan of relief. Theon put his hand out to clutch the chair and steady himself.

“My bitch likes that?” Ramsay asked, and gave him a sturdy tug.

Theon moaned.  “Don’t call me that.”

Ramsay laughed and removed his hand.  “Bitch, get over my knee.”

Groaning, Theon shut his eyes.  His erection was throbbing to the point it was unbearable, and he hated when Ramsay used pet names on him he didn’t like.  But lately he’d been letting him use them, anyway.  Theon eased himself over Ramsay’s lap, clutching the chair leg to steady himself.  “Fucker,” he muttered under his breath.

Theon was rewarded for that, which was what he was intending.  Ramsay clutched his hair and yanked his head up until his neck hurt.  “Are you trying to get hurt?”

“Maybe,” he said, but the right answer was yes.

“I think you are.”  He yanked Theon’s hair back further, until the other man whimpered.  Then he let go and turned his attention elsewhere.

Ramsay ran his hand over Theon’s bare skin.  "I always hate when you're disobedient and I have to hurt you," he told him.  “And now you’ve made it worse, because you’re _trying_ to piss me off.”

“I don’t believe you hate it at all.”  Blood was rushing to Theon’s head, and he was panting.  Of all the punishments Ramsay devised, spanking was the most intimate.  He always was aroused when Ramsay spanked him, or even threatened to spank him.  It made his ears turn red with shame, and his legs wobbly just thinking about it.

“How unkind, my pet.”  Ramsay put his hand over Theon’s mouth, a silent signal to stop talking.  When Theon kept it up, Ramsay would smack him on the head, or force his fingers inside his mouth.  “How very unkind.”

Theon stopped talking.  His head was blank with arousal, and he almost rubbed himself against Ramsay’s pants leg for some relief.  But he was done being defiant for now, and it seemed lately his acts of rebellion were growing smaller and more pathetic.  Instead Theon pushed his upturned bottom up to give Ramsay easier access to him.

In response, Ramsay gave him a teasing slap.  “Good boy.”  He sounded pleased.

Theon was warmed by the praise; he couldn’t help it.  He needed it more and more, but it seemed to come less and less.  That made him all the more frantic to obtain it.

“First, ten with my hand,” Ramsay told him.  The first strike was hard, and the second, harder.

If Theon had been unaccustomed, he would have whimpered, but as it was, he knew this was nothing special.  He endured the hits with barely a noise, and for a moment wished he’d held off for another minute or two just so Ramsay would hit him more.  There was something wrong with him, he told himself.  Something was very wrong.  But the worst part was he wanted it too bad to care.  Soon it was over, and the real punishment began.

“I am thinking fifteen with the paddle,” Ramsay told him, “and I’ll chain you up afterwards.”

Theon nodded, feeling dejected.  Being chained in the basement was lonely, and he sometimes waited for hours for Ramsay to return for him.  Lately those hours were lengthening, and he didn’t know why.  He hated curling up, alone, with only a blanket and his perpetual collar for company.  The collar comforted him, though, because Ramsay had given it to him.  Whenever Theon touched it, he remembered that Ramsay took care of him.

The sting of the paddle was shocking, and Theon gasped.  He couldn’t believe he was going to get fourteen more hits.  For a moment Ramsay paused, letting the cool wood trail over Theon’s skin.  Then he struck him again, harder than Theon imagined was possible.  Theon was genuinely afraid.  The third strike made him kick his feet, and the fourth caused him to cry out.

The fifth made him jump, and squirm.  His cheeks were hot with tears.  “Please stop,” he said.  “I’ll obey, I promise.”  He really did want it to stop, but the idea of displeasing Ramsay seemed more horrible than anything, even this.

Ramsay put his hand on Theon’s back.  “Stop moving around,” he told him, with more affection in his voice than he had had all evening.  “You have ten more to go and I want you to be good while you take them.  Can you do that for me?”

Theon nodded, too frightened to speak.  He forced himself to stop moving, and steadied himself by putting one hand on the floor.

For the next five strokes, he cried out, and blubbered again that he was sorry.  On the six he put his hand out to try to protect himself; he couldn’t help it.  His ass was on fire.

Ramsay grabbed his arm, and twisted it against his back.  “Don’t do that again,” he hissed, voice suddenly cold. “Or I’ll break your fingers.”

Theon’s breath caught in his throat; the threat was serious.  Through the pain and arousal, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry; I won’t.  Please don’t.”

He should have safe-worded then.  Or maybe he should have thrown himself off of Ramsay’s lap, grabbed his bag, and gone somewhere else.  He didn’t have anywhere else to go, but really _anywhere_ would have been better.  Instead he bowed his head, and when Ramsay let his hand go, he sheepishly grabbed the chair leg again.

The last four strokes were agonizing beyond description, and when Ramsay was finally done with him he sobbed in relief.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, still over Ramsay’s knees.  “I’m sorry.”

“Shh.”  Ramsay rubbed Theon’s bruised flesh, and then reached down to find his boyfriend’s cock.  It had withered a bit from the pain, but he got it going again quickly.  “You liked that, didn’t you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Theon breathed.  He knew in a twisted way that he had.  Ramsay frightened him, and he knew, deep down, that something was wrong.  But that _something wrong_ made him want Ramsay even more.  He thought about his father’s disapproval and Robb’s death and knew he deserved it, whatever _it_ even was.

Ramsay’s hand was sending him into ecstasy.  He gasped, and his head pounded with excitement.  It didn’t take him long to climax, and he shook as he did so.  Ramsay pushed him off his lap after rubbing Theon’s cum on his shirt.

“What do you say?”

Theon stood, head bowed in submission.  His playfulness and smile was gone.  “Thank you,” he said.  “Thank you, sir.”  He clutched his fingers, feeling inexplicably stupid, pathetic and confused.  He wanted to rub where Ramsay had hit him, but he hadn’t gotten permission.

Ramsay grinned.  “Pull your pants up and go down to the basement.  I’ll be there to chain you in a minute.”

Theon obeyed, wincing as he did so.  The thought of leaving struck him again, but for some reason the idea seemed so laughably impossible.  Sometimes he felt like he breathed Ramsay, and if Ramsay went away, he would stop forever.

That was why the basement was the worst, he thought, as he went down the steps.  He saw his chain waiting for him.  It had been Ramsay’s old dog’s chain, before it had died.  He sat down beside it, and nearly cried out in pain as he did so.

Ramsay came down the steps soon afterwards, and gave him a proud smile.  “Good dog,” he told him, putting his hand on his pet’s head.  “You did good.  Now be good again and wait for me.”

Theon didn’t see what other choice he had but to wait, but he nodded.  He wanted to cry over the praise, but stopped himself.  “Thank you.  I will.”  He always felt small after a punishment, like the bite had gone out of him and all that was left was adoration and fear.

Ramsay hooked him to the chain by his collar with a lock, humming under his breath.  When he was done he crouched beside his pet, smiling softly.

Theon smiled back, but his heart was pounding like a jackrabbit’s.  Sometimes he got the impression that his grins angered Ramsay in some way, but he didn’t understand why, or how.

Ramsay took hold of Theon’s jaw, pulling him towards him until their noses were almost touching.  “You’re mine,” he told him.  Then he yanked Theon’s chain downward until Theon was bowing, held down at the neck.  “And you’ll stay down here as long as I want, yes?”

Theon nodded, but he was no longer smiling.  “…Yes,” he agreed, even though he didn’t want to be in the basement at all.

“Maybe I should get you a bowl for when I keep you here awhile,” Ramsay said thoughtfully.

Theon let out a shaky breath; he realized he was afraid to say anything.  “I don’t want to be down here that long.  Ramsay, I’m serious.  I _don’t_.”

“I don’t think you want your fingers broken either.”

Theon stopped breathing, and by the time he started again he was lightheaded.  “Ramsay,” he said, frightened by the meekness in his voice.  Then he used his safe-word.  “I don’t want to be down here right now.  I don’t like this.  Let’s just…get some fries or something.  Okay?”

In a breach beyond anything Theon could have imagined, Ramsay ignored him.  “Do you want your fingers broken?”  He said it slowly, like Theon was an idiot and needed it spelled out for him.

Then Ramsay reached out and grabbed Theon’s fingers.  Theon tried to pull away, but Ramsay kept his grip.  He pushed Theon’s pinky finger back until it hurt.  Theon squirmed, and pushed himself up against the wall.  For a moment, he was ready to fight.  Then he remembered Ramsay controlled the key to his chains.

Theon whimpered, but he sounded so pitiful he didn't recognize himself. _I can't get away._ Now, an a moment where he actually felt courageous enough to flee, Ramsay had him chained.  “…No.  No I don’t.  _Please._ ”  He really was an idiot.

Ramsay clutched Theon’s hands against his chest, and ran his thumb over Theon’s palm to comfort him.  “I care about you very much, pet,” he told him.  “I hope you know that.”

“I do.”  Theon had never been so afraid of his boyfriend before.  He vowed that as soon as he had the opportunity he was going to get away.  Surely Asha would come get him, stereo blaring from her Ford F150, which always smelled of fish.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”  Ramsay leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.  “I do think you should stay down here awhile, though.  How about I bring you those fries?  And some Mountain Dew?”

“…Okay.”

“Okay.”  Ramsay ran his hands through Theon’s hair gently.  “Sometimes you just don’t know what is best for you.  But I do."  He leaned closer, lips brushing against Theon's ear.  "I love you, pet.”

Theon was speechless, and he felt simultaneously hopeless and confused.  The chain had never seemed so heavy before.  Was Ramsay really keeping him down here against his will?  Surely Ramsay wouldn’t do that to him.  Maybe Ramsay hadn’t heard him right.

“I’ll be back,” Ramsay told him.  “You sit tight.”

Theon nodded wordlessly, and thought of his cellphone laying discarded on the coffee table upstairs.  Had this been planned?  Was he really that stupid?

His boyfriend began to go up the steps.  Theon was filled, inexplicitly, with awe.  Ramsay hadn’t seemed imposing when he first met him at the bar; he had seemed mousey, and safe.  He was anything but.

“Please don’t leave me down here,” he wanted to say, but he didn’t.  It was useless, and might make Ramsay angry.

Ramsay shut the door, and the only light was a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling.  It reeked of dog and piss in the basement—probably because Ramsay had locked him inside for fourteen hours once.  By the end of it Theon had begun to fear he wouldn’t come back.  He’d thought of leaving then, too.  But he hadn’t.

Running his trembling fingers along his collar, Theon groaned.  He had cum smeared all over his shirt, his ass hurt like hell, and he was chained to the same place where he’d wet himself.  Ramsay had chuckled at that, which at the time was a relief because Theon had thought he might be angry.

Sometimes Theon knew he was fucked, and sometimes he didn’t.

_I’ll break your fingers._

Theon shivered, and pulled his knees up to his chest.  He put both hands on his collar for comfort.  Ramsay wouldn’t _really_ hurt him.  Ramsay loved him.

_I love you, pet._

I love you too, Theon thought.  He wasn’t going to call Asha, or anyone else, and Ramsay knew it. 

“I’m fucked,” he whispered under his breath.  The light flickered, and flickered again.  He was afraid it was going to go out.


End file.
